


Greblids

by tattooeddevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When baby breaks down, the only explanation Sam has for it are gremlins. Dean-with-the-flu naturally believes him. He takes it too the next level too. Crack!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greblids

There was a splutter, a few gurgling sounds and then silence. Sam stared at the dash with wide eyes, stepped on the gas a few times and wiggled the shift stick, but there was nothing.

Baby was dead.

_Nonononononono_

Sam steered the car to the side of the road as fluently as he could before taking the keys out the ignition and just sitting there for a few seconds. What the hell was he going to do now? More importantly, what on earth was he going to tell Dean that didn’t result in him getting killed slowly killed?

There wasn’t. He was so screwed.

He turned to look at the sleepy stretched out form of Dean in the back seat to make sure his death was not imminent. Nope, Dean was still fast asleep. Dark spots of red high on his cheeks, red rimmed eyes, a little drool running down his chin and a runny nose; Dean always was a messy sick person. Sam could hear the air wheezing through his lungs and when he reached a hand out to feel for Dean’s temperature, he didn’t even need to touch Dean to feel it.

His life safe for now, Sam decided to let Dean sleep and check out the problem himself. He climbed out the car as softly as he could - which, admittedly, wasn’t very softly at all at 6’4 - before staring at the door and the car trying to figure out a way to close it without waking Dean. The crick didn’t sound at slow speeds, but the door wouldn’t fall into the lock if you didn’t put a little strength behind it. The only solution was not to close the door, but that would leave Dean in the cold. He was already stirring a little from the ice-cold breeze coming and Sam jerked into motion. He took off his coat and bundled it up to wedge it between the door and the lock.

Huzzah!

There was only a very small sliver of space between the door and the jam, not enough to freeze Dean to death in his sleep. Sam was a genius. He checked the back seat; Dean had settled and was thankfully still sleeping. Now for the car. He felt along the edge of the hood for the release - once across, twice across, three times across - until he realized the release handle was inside the car. Genius all right.

Sam unwedged the door, crouched down the pull the handle, cursed the loud scraping sound it made and fumbled his coat and the door back in place. All without waking Dean. He released the breath he was holding and grinned at himself. He could totally be stealthy. A ninja even. No one would know he kung-fu jabbed the door, would they?

With the hood popped, Sam stared down at the insides of Dean’s baby. He chuckled at the thought - sue him, he can giggle at dirty jokes, Dean’s are just not funny - but he soon had to admit defeat. He knew as much of fixing cars as he did of building satellites to listen in a extra terrestrial chatter. Jack squat. He needed help.

“Bobby? It’s Sam.”

“Nice to hear from you, boy. How’s it going?”

“The car broke down.”

“So? Get Dean to fix it.”

“Dean’s asleep. He’s got the flu.”

Bobby groaned.

“And we all know how he gets when he’s got the flu. All right, let him sleep, it’s probably for the best. Can you tell me what is wrong with the car?”

“Uhm, no? I mean, it spluttered and there were some really nasty sounds coming from somewhere inside and then it just stopped running.”

Sam could almost hear Bobby roll his eyes at Sam’s completely unhelpful description of how the car had broken down, but come on, Dean was the one with the car fetish, not Sam. He just drove the thing and left the masturbating over it to Dean.

“Was there any smoke or scraping sound?”

“No, just the gurgle and then nothing.”

“What happens when you turn the ignition?”

“Uhm, I haven’t tried that. It’ll wake Dean.”

Bobby sighed and this time, Sam was sure he was rolling his eyes.

“Just do it, ya idjit. Just tell Dean you’re in traffic or something, he won’t notice anyway.”

Sam huffed disbelievingly, but pulled the door open anyway and slid into the car. He threw his coat over Dean’s head carefully just to confuse him a little more should he wake up, and jammed the key in the ignition. When he turned it, the car rumbled, spluttered and gargled, but didn’t start. It did however, wake up Dean.

“Wha-?”

Sam cursed and pulled the key from the ignition again. He turned to Dean and simultaneously told Bobby what happened. Who says men can’t multi-task?

“Fuck. Nothing, Bobby, just the same sounds as when she broke down.”

Great, now he was referring to the car as a she too.

Dean struggled in the back seat, trying to get the coat off his head and untangle himself from the blankets and clothes piled on top of him and wasn’t very successful. Sam probably should be laughing.

“Did you check the levels?”

“What’s goib od?”

Dean’s stuffed, muffled voice came through the layers on top of him and it nearly made Sam laugh again. He patted the pile roughly where Dean’s head would be and shushed it.

“Gremlins, Dean, go back to sleep. Bobby, levels?”

The gremlins joke was a long running joke between them and just like always, Dean didn’t fall for it.

“Grebl- What?”

“The gas level, Sam Are you out of gas?”

Sam flushed deep red, because even without checking, he knew that would be the problem. It had been at least 600 miles since they last stopped for gas and even Sam knew that was too long ago to not be out of gas. He just hadn’t thought of it. He had hauled Dean from his sweaty bed when the demons started circling the motel a little too closely and had just driven. He wanted to get as far away as he could, as fast as he could.

Well, damn it.

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

Bobby sounded a little, okay, a lot, amused. Sam muttered something about demons and a sick Dean, but he knew Bobby would still laugh at him. He begrudgingly had to admit they were in fact, out of gas.

“Yeah. Fuck.”

Bobby laughed before calling him an idjit again and hanging up. Sam threw his phone on the seat with a sigh and focused his attention on Dean. He had finally managed to get himself from under the mountain of blankets and clothes and was now glaring at Sam with watery eyes. His freckles stood out against his pale skin and when he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, Sam couldn’t keep the laughter in anymore. Dean looked like a petulant five year old that couldn’t go out and play because of the flu. Come to think of it, apart from the age, it was a pretty close description of Dean’s mental state right now.

Sick Dean equaled loopy Dean and that was always funny as hell.

“Greblids, by ass.”

Sam saw Dean look at the still popped up hood and before he could ask about it, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“No, yeah, the gremlins did it. They uhm... took all the gas!”

Dean’s forehead wrinkled in confusion and Sam cursed himself for being so stupid. Dean was out of it, sure, but he would never fall for their childhood game of “the Gremlins made me do it”, not even in this state.

“Okay.”

Wait, what?

“We should go out add hudt theb. Get our gas back.”

“Hunt them...?”

“Yeah, the greblids!”

Dean actually looked excited at the prospect of hunting gremlins. Fictional monsters from their favorite childhood movie. Sam hadn’t the heart to say no, it was the most excited he’d seen Dean since he fell ill four days ago, and quick thinking brought him to the conclusion they needed to walk to the nearest gas ‘n sip anyway. Which was much easier if Dean walked by himself. He couldn’t stay behind - not in his current state - and Sam wasn’t gonna carry his fat ass.

Hunting gremlins it is.

Sam sighed and hauled himself out of the car again. He opened the back door and Dean almost toppled out of the car. He managed to catch himself on the door jam before he face planted in the dirt and climbed out of the car too. He watched Sam slam the hood closed and winced at the loud bang.

“Hey, watch it!”

Sam shrugged sheepishly.

“Sorry, had to get the gremlins under the hood too.”

Dean nodded sagely and Sam smirked. Oh, he was gonna milk this dry.

Sam rounded the car, packed a duffle bag with some weapons and their petrol can and handed Dean a wooden stake. Dean took hold of it with both hands and a very serious, responsible expression.

“I’ll kill theb all.”

Sam resisted the urge to pet Dean’s head and call him a good boy. Just.

With the car locked up and Dean properly dressed in six layers, Sam steered him in the direction his GPS told him the nearest petrol station was. It was only about three miles away thankfully; Sam only had to worry about Dean falling down and dying on him for six miles.

Only he hadn’t accounted for the sudden energy Dean got at the prospect of killing rogue gremlins.

Ten steps into their journey, he had already lost Dean. When he looked in the direction of the rustling sound behind him, he saw Dean squatting behind a bush with a very intent look in his face. At first Sam thought he was doing a number two back there, but then Dean raised the stake and growled menacingly.

Oh, for the love of-

Sam dragged Dean up from behind the bush and continued to pull Dean along - under loud protest from Dean of course, because, dude, there were gremlins hiding in those bushes! - by his arm. Unfortunately, Dean got away again about a mile and a half into the trip, when Sam’s phone rang and he needed both hands to keep hold of the duffle bag and pick up his phone. While he talked to Caleb, Dean chased invisible gremlins up a tree. He managed to snag Dean’s ankle just in time.

Seriously, no more Tylenol for Dean, he got way too paranoid.

If Sam had to be completely honest, this entire hunting gremlins thing was his own fault. He ignored the little voice in his head that pointed it out though in favor of laughing at Dean doing his best tiger-crawl impression along the side of the road. By the time they got to the gas station, Sam would have a stitch in his side from laughing so hard. Dean scowled every time he did, claiming Sam wasn’t taking the hunt seriously.

“They’re dadgerous little bodsters, Sammy. Get od with it!”

Sam nodded obediently and pretended to sneak alongside Dean. It seemed to placate Dean and for the last mile, they walked along surprisingly fast. Sam thought they would actually get gas and be back at the car in under two hours. Naturally, that’s when things went to hell.

“Greblids!”

Before Sam could react, Dean sprinted off, stake raised and Sam could only yell after him. He watched Dean fly past the pumps and into the bathroom in what seemed like a flash. The door slammed behind Dean and suddenly all was quiet. There were two girls standing next to a car, getting it filled, that were looking at him a little funny, but Sam just smiled at them and jogged after Dean. He knocked on the door before opening it.

“Dean?”

The sight that greeted him was equally hilarious and frightening.

“Dean, let the dog go!”

Dean looked up startled and the tiny fluff ball of a dog in his arms yipped fearfully. Dean was holding a small pocketknife a few inches from the dog - and where the hell did he get that? - clearly intent on killing the dog for being mistaken as a gremlin.

“Do! He’s dadgerous!”

Sam yanked the shivering dog from Dean’s arms and quickly opened the door to set it free. When he looked back Dean was pouting.

“I had it.”

This time, Sam let himself pet Dean’s shoulder.

“Yes, you did, but this was an innocent gremlin. He promised not to be evil anymore.”

That made Dean stop and think for a second. Sam took the opportunity to steer him out of the bathroom and into the little shop next door. He asked the attendant to fill up their gas can while he browsed for some food and drinks for Dean. Orange juice was a proper sick-drink, right?

After one aisle, Dean started to flag a little. By the end of the second one, he was lagging behind. When they reached the third one, Dean staggered over to a chair in the corner of the shop an proclaimed he would be sleeping there.

“Tired.”

Sam didn’t even try to prevent him from falling asleep; he knew there was no use. If Dean had decided he was going to sleep, then by god, he was going to sleep. With a sigh, he resigned himself to his fate.

“That’ll be twenty seven dollars and thirty seven cents please.”

Sam turned to the attendant, who was looking past him with an amused smile on his face.

“That’s gonna be an issue. How far?”

“About three miles. Can you maybe call a taxi?”

The attendant shook his head.

“Nearest taxi dispatch is fifteen miles out. You’ll be faster walking.”

Sam sighed again. Fine.

He paid the attendant, pocketed his change and then turned back to Dean. Dean was slumped over to the side, leaning against the freezer with cold drinks, a little bit of drool already hanging from his lips. Sam sighed again; this was gonna suck.

He debated positions for all of two seconds. Fireman’s carry it was.

Surprisingly, three miles with 180 pounds of big brother drooling over your back went by faster than said big brother pretending to be in a gremlin-infested warzone for that same distance. It wasn’t nearly as fun though.


End file.
